Gladys Where Are You Going?
Sooooooo . . . which IS it? Can I go down the drain or not?
Speaking of bathing, I had this conversation with my seven year old this week . . .
Me: Time to take a shower, you’re filthy.
Bobby: But I don’t have to take a shower, I just have to wash my feet.
Me: Says who?
Bobby: Jesus. It’s in the Bible. I just have to wash my feet and I’ll be clean all over.
Me: Excellent work Bob, but you’re still taking a shower.
I finally called my OB this week. I figured that at ten weeks along I wouldn’t have to do the bloodwork and the, um, special kind of ultrasound.
Well, so far, I think I managed to fend off the ultrasound. But I still had to do the blood test (but only one not two, woo hoo!). I know my dates, and I’m not going to let them induce me anyway, but the gal at reception was very uncomfortable with the idea of me not doing the blood test. So I decided to not make a big stink about it. I don’t care about getting blood drawn, I just don’t want to drive all the way out there so they can do it. It interferes with my responsible homeschooling and/or Doctor Who watching.
And I’m starting to suspect that OBs all think that what actually ails us is an imbalance of the humours that can be cleared up if they could just collect enough of our blood and urine.
Hey, speaking of Doctor Who, did I really make it all the way to my fourth take without mentioning the Doctor yet? How’s THAT for extraordinary self-restraint?
But here goes . . .
I am now well into Season 4, and please do not try to figure out how many hours of Netflix that is in one week. In my defense, my husband was out of town.
Anyway, everyone was right about the Tenth Doctor, he has grown on me. But I still like the Ninth Doctor much better, mostly because I found his relationship with Rose very endearing. As amusing as Mr. Tennant’s narcissistic take on the Doctor is, I grow weary of all the ladies “fancy-ing” him and him fake-pining away after Rose who I never for a minute believed that he loved (whew, deep breath, I’m okay).
Also, this must be a full-time job:
Because . . . Doctor hair:
Wow, is he ever amazing in Hamlet. I’ve just watched clips so far. But as soon as my, um, schedule clears up (read: I finish Doctor Who) I’m so watching all three hours for free online. Thanks for the tip, Chris.
And, I have learned from watching Doctor Who that the people of Great Britain are involved almost exclusively in interracial relationships. I don’t have any sort of an issue with it, but I do find it noticeable. So there you have it.
And since I don’t actually think that 80-90% of relationships in the UK are interracial it makes me curious . . .
Speaking of geeky stuff . . .
I don’t personally care what word they use since I never really considered myself a “geek.” I more identify as just kind of contrary, so I’ve never minded liking something even if “most” people don’t. I think that makes it easier for me to handle being in public with more kids than the average bear. (In case you missed it, here’s my take on how to respond to “You’ve sure got your hands full.”)
But I loved this quote from John Scalzi that a reader left in the comments:
“Many people believe geekdom is defined by a love of a thing, but I think — and my experience of geekdom bears on this thinking — that the true sign of a geek is a delight in sharing a thing. It’s the major difference between a geek and a hipster, you know: When a hipster sees someone else grooving on the thing they love, their reaction is to say “Oh, crap, now the wrong people like the thing I love.” When a geek sees someone else grooving on the thing they love, their reaction is to say “ZOMG YOU LOVE WHAT I LOVE COME WITH ME AND LET US LOVE IT TOGETHER.” Any jerk can love a thing. It’s the sharing that makes geekdom awesome.”
So, I would like to officially rescind liking Hipster Jesus. Because Jesus and I are not Hipsters. I think we’re both just, ya know, Catholic (big C and little c). . . and geeks are welcome to come love some stuff over here with us anytime.
I’m a San Diego native, and I have San Diego facebook friends. So after Manti Te’o was drafted by the San Diego Chargers, I was treated to a bunch of stuff like this:
SERIOUSLY, what gives? This is a kid who was the victim of a fraud. A kid who was literally an Eagle Scout, who was taken advantage of by someone who actually knew him and tricked him. How can people possibly be so cruel?
And, less importantly, Charger fans: Do you WANT him to fail? How could he possibly succeed in such a hostile environment? You’d expect him to get it from opposing fans, but that comic appeared in his new-hometown newspaper. Do you WANT him to go down in flames? Have we forgotten Ryan Leaf so soon?
My new camera is a Nikon 1 J1 with 10-30mm Lens, it’s not an SLR camera — it’s completely digital, but it has changeable lenses. It fits nicely in my purse and isn’t too heavy to wear around my neck, but it’s certainly much more bulky than a pocket camera. Mine was $400 for the body and a 10-30 zoom lens, plus I bought an 18.5mm depth of field lens, to get those blurry back ground photos.
My old camera is a Casio Exilim point and shoot. It fits right in your pocket and is about $100 for the older version I have, newer versions seem to range from $200-$500.
New camera on the left, old camera on the right.